Arranged Marriage
by DarkBlaziken
Summary: Post-FE6. Cecilia hated arranged marriages and vowed never to get herself into one. But when the Prince of Etruria was the matchmaker, she realized that there was no way of escaping.


**EDIT: SO SORRY, I ACCIDENTALLY REPOSTED THIS WHILE TRYING TO BACK THIS UP! SORRY TO THOSE WHO GOT AN ALERT**

**A/N: So I've managed to churn something out during my stay in China! This was done with limited paper supply and limited internet access with no spellcheck, so please do point out the spelling mistakes/grammar mistakes. **

**Fanfiction should have a new category called Political. Really. Flo, this is your christmas present if you think it's okay.**

* * *

"Cecilia. I know that both of us do not enjoy beating about the bush, so I will get straight to the point. I think—and I am sure your father would most certainly agree—that it is about time for you to get married."

Cecilia froze. Had she heard wrongly? She stared disbelievingly at the prince, only to be greeted with his serene, solemn expression.

"Prince Mildain, surely you jest…?"

"I am serious about this. Marriage is an important part of one's life, after all. You should get married soon."

"I do appreciate your concern, prince, but I hope that you would allow me to deal with my…personal affairs by myself." There was something wrong with the prince today, Cecilia mused. He had never discussed these…issues with her before. Why would he be so concerned all of a sudden?

"Ah, I would certainly have allowed you to do that, if not for the fact that I have accepted your father's request to aid him on the matter. Surely I cannot go back on my words to such an old friend of mine—and my father's." She knew it. Her father had been most anxious about her marital issues, but she would never have guessed that he would bring it up to the prince. Why did he have to complicate matters like this?

"I believe you have been to matchmaking sessions before?" It took a while for Cecilia to realize that the question was directed at her.

"Yes, but they haven't been very…effective." Her father had been constantly dragging her to meet the sons of various dukes and other nobles, but nothing had come out of them—she had dismissed all of them, to her father's increasing disappointment and anxiety, with much disdain. After all, they were little more than strangers to her, and most of them still held on firmly to those elitist, snobbish notions which she could not stand. How on earth could she accept these people when she had been working all along to rebuild a new Etruria which would drive these notions out of existence?

"I would have expected as much," Mildain said with a hint of an amused smile. "As such, I have decided to play the matchmaker and make the decisions for you. I have found someone who would certainly suit you very well; I want the two of you to be married next Sunday."

"What?" She stood up, unable to contain her outburst. Breathe, Cecilia, breathe, she told herself firmly. Calm down, and sit down. "I apologise, Prince Mildain, but I cannot comply with your wishes. This is unacceptable to me."

"Why not?"

She almost glared at him, but caught herself just in time, shooting daggers at the table between them instead. Why not? There were a million and one reasons she could give. "Forgive my impudence, but I believe that we are now working towards the building of a new Etruria, where old customs and archaic imperialist notions will be banished so that our country will rise to a greater glory. I believe that customs such as arranged marriage may be classified under the category we wish to dispose of."

To her surprise, Mildain began to laugh softly. "You speak with such conviction, Cecilia. But this is not about work; this is about your personal life. Your father is right; you cannot put so much effort on Etruria's future that you neglect your own."

She had heard variations of that piece of advice at least twice a day from her father. "I will give up my life for Etruria; such personal matters can rest till later," she said, a tinge of defiance and stubbornness in her voice.

Mildain responded almost as quickly as she had. "Very well then, Cecilia. Then, in response to your previous remark about arranged marriages—yes, it is an old custom, but why should all customs be banished? It is part of the culture of Etruria, just like the Eliminean religion. Will you remove everything that characterizes Etruria for a 'more glorious future' ?"

There was a very obvious problem with his argument, which was not at all up to his usual standard. "Milord, I have never said that everything needs to be banished. Arranged marriages may be part of our culture, but it has robbed many of the freedom to choose, the freedom to love who they will. Personal freedom surely is a virtue we are hoping to incorporate in the rebuilding of Etruria—is that not the reason why we have abolished slavery and colonization? Then, in the process to achieve it, should we not remove everything that goes against it?"

The corner of Mildain's lips curved into a rather mischievous smile. "Cecilia, you speak as though my arranging your marriage has interfered with your freedom to choose whom you love. As far as I know, there seems to be none who have won your heart—or am I mistaken?"

Cecilia felt a sudden gush of warmth creeping up her cheeks, partly because Mildain had led her into a trap, and partly because there _was_ in fact _someone_ whom she had admired for a long time already. But the admiration remained as just that—a purely one-sided, silent affection. Cecilia did not want to confess her feelings for fear of losing his friendship—which seemed to be all that he seemed to feel for her. Then again, it was hard for anyone to read anything from his generally stoic, masklike face; and thus, she had secretly held the hope that one day, he would confess to reciprocating her feelings. That was another reason why she had turned down every suitor that her father had brought, but there was no way she could tell Mildain that without making a fool of herself. "Please do not change the subject, Prince Mildain. I do not wish for my future to be determined in such a manner, that is all."

"Oh? If you are concerned that the husband I have found you will not be to your liking, be assured; he is rather suited for you, in my opinion, and I am sure you shall grow to like him quickly."

"I wouldn't be so sure, milord." The edge in her voice grew even more prominent.

"Enough of that, Cecilia. Refusal without reason does not work with me. Either ways, did you not just say that you would put the future of Etruria before your own? In that case, I shall have you know that your marriage is, in a way, uh, diplomatic. It will certainly help to…accelerate the rebuilding of Etruria, at any rate. That is final, then. It shall be arranged for your wedding to take place next Sunday. You are dismissed." He did not raise his voice, but the tone of finality made it clear to her that there would be no use arguing anymore.

* * *

"General Cecilia?"

She had barely stumbled, half-dazed from disbelief and shock at Mildain's announcement, when she found herself standing face to face with someone, _that someone_ whom she did not really want to meet at the moment. Stowing away her exhaustion and drawing herself to her full height, she gave the best smile she could in her half-befuddled state. "General Percival."

He seemed to notice the lethargy behind her smile. "Are you not well? If you need some rest, I could discuss this with you another time—"

"It's alright. Please do go on."

As he continued on about something which vaguely seemed to be regarding reinforcements near the borders of Etruria, Cecilia found herself paying attention to the tone of his voice rather than the content. It was not the rich bass of Douglas' voice, neither did it possess the melodious tenor quality of Mildain's voice, yet that low, cool, firm voice captivated her: that voice which, even when not raised, could intimidate the initiates in the army; that voice which, when speaking with conviction, could make her believe in everything that had been said. She vaguely wondered if such discussions between them were numbered; after her marriage, would her husband still allow her to have private one-on-one conversations with another man?

"General Cecilia?" She snapped abruptly out of her thoughts. "You seem to be rather distracted today. Is anything wrong?"

She felt herself flush a deep red. "Oh, it's nothing…it's just that—" she halted, uncertain if she should go on. Then it escaped her, before she could contain herself. "—Prince Mildain just told me that he had arranged a marriage for me. I've never thought that he would do something like that! It is completely against what we are trying to do for Etruria. This is—this is completely unacceptable! I do not even know who—" she stopped suddenly, realizing that she was ranting.

There was a long and awkward silence between them.

"Prince Mildain seems to be very interested in matchmaking issues recently," Percival said suddenly, as if to break the silence between them. "He has…well, he has informed me that I was to marry someone as well. He was deaf to my protests." The expression on his face was unreadable. "But enough of that. You should take a rest, Cecilia. I need to get going."

Cecilia watched him go, a strange sinking feeling in her heart. The last trace of whatever hope she had left of escaping the marriage Mildain had arranged for her went down together with that feeling. Even if she managed to escape now, who else could she marry? She hated herself for not confessing her feelings earlier, for letting the matter wait, thinking that it would resolve itself one day; but now, it was all too late. She wished to call out to him now, to throw her arms around him, but to what use would that come to? Everything had already been set in front of her, fixed, unmoving, unchangeable. She could only watch the last of his retreating shadow vanish down the hallway, leaving her alone and powerless and vulnerable in the grand passageway.

She never saw him again for the rest of the week.

* * *

"You look absolutely wonderful, Lady Cecilia!"

Cecilia looked dully at her reflection in the full-length mirror in front of her. If she indeed looked wonderful, she was feeling far from it. The snow white wedding dress was scratchy and uncomfortably low-cut, her usually loose viridian hair was held up in a tight high knot by countless pins and tons of shimmering pearls which clicked and clacked noisily whenever she moved, and every inch of her exposed skin was weighed down by so much jewelry, it seemed to be even heavier than her armour had been. But this was not the first time Cecilia had been forced to doll up for the occasion, and she knew that it was not the main cause of her lack of cheer. In a few hours' time, she was going to be wife to someone she had not even met before, someone who did not understand her at all. But what could she do about it? Why was Mildain so unreasonable on this matter? The prince had always been understanding and insightful on the matters of politics; why was he so traditional and backward in the realm of marriage?

"Lady Cecilia, please hurry! The groom is waiting at your door!"

Had time really flown so quickly? It seemed only minutes ago when she had stepped into the room to prepare for the wedding. But the sun now hung high in the sky, unnaturally bright and cheerful, though the warmth of its rays were swept away by the autumn breeze. Was that what was expected of her as well? To smile and appear happy and willing, although her heart had already gone cold, distant, dead?

She now faced the dark wooden door, and she knew that her husband-to-be was standing behind it, a nameless, faceless stranger. They had all the time from the walk down the corridor to the altar in the church to get to know each other, and she was sure that that time, too, would pass by quickly. What one dreaded would always come to pass sooner than expected.

It struck her suddenly then that the door was the exact shade of brown of Percival's eyes, deep and dark and unfathomable.

She mentally scolded herself for letting her mind wander again. Why was she thinking of _him_ at this hour? Why was she holding on to a dream that had already been lost? For all she knew, he had already married by now. Mildain seemed to be a most impatient matchmaker.

The maid who had been waiting on her hurried to the door, resting her hand on the doorknob. "Smile, my lady! Smile and be confident!"

She obeyed, forcing the corners of her lips to curve upwards into a smile, a smile that did not belong to her, a smile that did not feel right at all on her face. For how long was she supposed to endure this smile? For how long did she have to pretend?

But as the door swung open, she realised with a joyful leap in her heart that she did not have to pretend at all.

Her smile slowly deepened to a genuine one as she stepped out of her room and into the embrace of her equally surprised (but pleasantly so, she could tell) fiancé, Percival.

* * *

Relatively lighthearted, was it not? Yay?


End file.
